


Fist of an Angry God

by tsurai



Series: Fist 'verse [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Cassandra POV, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Explicit Language, Gen, God Mode, Lavellan is pissed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13696.html?thread=52617088#t52617088">For a DA kmeme prompt.</a>
</p><blockquote>
  <p>I’d like to see an Inquisitor who has done it all, on nightmare-mode, and has been brought back to the beginning with end stats and gear. What we have here is a Veteran of the Inquisition where everyone else is still fumbling with starter-daggers/staves/swords.</p>
</blockquote>Lavellan is not happy about this being thrown into the past thing.
            </blockquote>





	Fist of an Angry God

When she receives word that the prisoner is awake, everyone is finally getting past the initial shock of the Breach opening. Cassandra nods to Leliana and together they enter the dungeon. She motions the soldiers to step back as she finally gets a look at the fully conscious prisoner on the floor. He is an elf – a city elf, Leliana had posited, based on the lack of markings on his face – with a river of dirty blonde braids and beads trailing over the shoulders of his fine-wrought armour. The fabric and metal is high-quality, enchanted, from what Cassandra can guess, and so closely fit to the elf's frame that it had to have been made for him, rather than stolen.

“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now,” she says, walking toward him. The long ears threaded with little golden hoops twitch, and the elf looks up with eyes the same shade of green as the mark on his hand. Then those eyes widen in shock.

“Cassandra?” The prisoner's eyes dart to her companion. “Leliana? What-”

Cassandra stops, but the words send Leliana darting forward, a dagger under the man's neck the next moment. “How do you know our names?” the spymaster hisses. The elf blinks, but looks more confused that worried.

“Tell us!” Cassandra snaps, ready to draw her own sword when his eyes linger on her too long.

“I don't understand, we've known each other for over a year now. Why- ah!” he cries out, curling in on himself heedless of the blade Leliana hastily moves away. The mark on his hand is sparking, crackling like lightning in the dim room. Then it settles and the elf stares down at it. “Elgar'nan, this can't be,” he hisses, looking up at them. “Where am I? _When_ am I?”

“I ask the questions here, not you,” Cassandra retorts. “Tell me how you know our names.”

The elf blinks, something grim and dark flitting over his eyes as he looks back at her. “You are Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth and Right Hand of the Divine. Your favourite book is Swords & Shields by Varric Tethras. You've read it five, probably going on six times right now.”

Cassandra steps back, poleaxed, but before she can open her mouth, he turns to Leliana. “Leliana, Left Hand of the Divine and spymaster for the Inquisition. The amulet you keep under your surcoat was given to you by the Hero of Fereldan.” Leliana's fingers, the once not clenched around a dagger, give an aborted twitch, but she shows no further reaction.

“How do you _know_ such things? Are you a demon?” Cassandra hisses.

“No, I'm not,” the elf states flatly, “and I'm trying desperately to convince myself that the Nightmare has found me out and sent this dream to torment me, so please, _where the hell am I_?” he finishes with a shout. The guards raise their swords at his perceived threat, but it is Leliana who holds up a hand to stay them.

“You're in Haven,” she says, and Cassandra holds herself taut as all colour drains from the elf's face. “We brought you here from the remnants of the conclave after you fell from the Breach.”

He closes his eyes, lets out a shuddering breath. “And everyone else is dead.” It is a statement, not a question.

Anger wells behind her breast as Cassandra clenches the pommel of her sword to keep from drawing it. “How in the Maker's name do you know that? How do you know _us_?”

The prisoner's mouth crooks into something that's not quite a smirk. “It would be easier to show you.”

* * *

Somehow she is convinced into letting the elf – whose name she still hasn't learned – outside with his hands bound. She and Leliana keep their eyes on him and hands on their weapons.

He steps out the door ahead of them, stilling at the sight of the giant green rip in the sky.

“We call it the Breach-” Cassandra starts, but stop when he turns to face her.

“I know. I've already closed the bloody thing once before, a _year_ ago! I did not sign up for another go 'round,” he hisses, and she feels a small spike of fear despite the man's small size; the eyes that look at her do not belong to such a young face.

They are filled with fear, exhaustion, and above that, rage. He chooses that moment to let loose such a foul stream of epithets she's surprised that the Maker's hand doesn't strike him down on the spot. Cassandra can feel her ears start to burn, and Leliana seems similarly taken aback.

He continues. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I did _not_ volunteer for this bullshit – this isn't even the fun shit that comes with Bull. I was finished, done! Orb gone, Corypheshit dead, Thedas at peace, as much as it ever is. Done. Fucking _time magic_ ,” he spits, the last words as full of venom as the preceding were nonsense. The Breach flares again and he cries out, but does not fall. Instead he twists his hands, panting, and they light up blue. Cassandra draws her sword even as the rope binding the elf's hands flutter to the ground.

“Mage!” One of the surrounding soldiers cry out, but the elf doesn't move to attack.

He holds up a hand, gone dark once more. “Wait. I am your ally, now and in the future. I will close the Breach. I've done it before.”

Leliana, ever the quick one, grasps what he's saying first. “You honestly expect us to believe that you are from the future?”

The mage looks at her, unphased by the dismissive tone. “No, spymaster. Facts don't require belief. Luckily, I can prove it to you, if you let me.”

Cassandra trades glances with Leliana, but knows the decision lies with her. She thinks for a long moment. They could interrogate him further, but every moment here is a moment when more demons pour from the sky. “Very well,” she sighs, sheathing her sword. “But if you make one wrong move, know that I will end your life.” Her response seems to amuse him, judging by the smile that steals over the elf's face. She gestures the soldiers back to their posts. “Leliana, go to the forward camp. I will take him to the Breach.”

* * *

The elf is infuriatingly casual on their walk their, his stride quick but loose. It is not until they get to the bridge over the river that he pauses, throwing one arm out to stop her walking past. “Wait.”

“What-” Green light strikes the bridge, collapsing the centre right where they would have been had they kept on. Without another word the elf took off, down the bank and right into the bubbling ice as two shades rose from the river. “Come back!” Cassandra calls, rushing toward him. _The fool is going to get himself killed before we can get to the Breach!_

Light flashes, purple-white lancing through green as the elf drops a cage of lightning over the shades.  Within seconds both are dead, dispersing into smoke.

“And that's _without_ a staff,” the elf grins, stepping toward the rubble to pick up a rudimentary weapon.

She lets him keep the staff.

* * *

The elf serves as a one-man army, casually wiping out whole scores of demons with a single sweep of his staff before Cassandra can even reach them. When she glares the elf merely shrugs.

“They're pathetically weak,” is the only explanation she receives. From then she concentrates on watching him – this elf mage who seems to know her secrets. She wants to shake him, demand answers for the millions of questions teaming in her mind, but she doubts she would get any more of an answer than before.

In fact, watching him take out a wraith with a casual wave of his hand, she’s starting to doubt she could take this man on alone. Perhaps if she managed to Silence him first-

And then they reach the rift. The elf pauses for half a moment before jumping into the fray. Cassandra follows as quickly as she can, glad to wet her sword for the first time all day. When the last wraith falls to her blade, she turns just in time to see the elf raise his hand to the rift.

The sound that arises from it is near-painful, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Then, with a sound like water crashing against the shore, it closes.

“Oh goody, it still works,” he mutters, turning to the other two fighters. “Varric.” Cassandra startles at the genuinely affectionate smile on the elf's face. Then the blond turns to the other elf mage. “And _you_ ,” he growls, moving before Cassandra can react. He steps toward the apostate, one hand darting toward his ear and _yanking_ the bald one down to his level to unleash a stream of nonsense words that she can only assume is Elvish. Solas' face changes from startlement and anger to surprise after only a sentence, his eyebrows rising as he stops trying to pull out of the other elf's punishing grip on his ear.

The blond elf lets Solas go, but not before striking him in the chest with an open hand and gesticulating wildly to the Breach.

“Do you...know this guy, Chuckles?” Varric asks, sharp gaze intent on the enigma before them. Solas is staring at the other with a look Cassandra has never seen before, sadness and shock and anger mixing as the bald elf rubs his injured ear.

“I do not, but he seems to know us, very, very well. Do you not, _da'len_?”

The blond rolls his eyes in response. “Better than you would like me to, _hah'fen_. The explanation involves time magic, which is rather too much trouble to go into with the Breach yet to be shut. We should hop to it before the world crumbles around our ears. I promise I'll let you write down my story later,” he says to Varric. The dwarf pauses, but shrugs.

“Alright, I'll hold you to that.”

“That was Elvish,” bursts from Cassandra's lips before she can hold it back. When they turn to look at her, she continues, “You are not a city elf?”

The shorter elf blinks. “What? Oh, no. I'm Dalish. I had my _vallaslin_ removed,” he says with a grimace. Before she can ask further questions, he turns away. “Let's get a move on, before the bloody thing on my hand pulses again.”

Cassandra watches him go, Solas and Varric following, and doesn't think to protest.

* * *

Cassandra feels vindicated that she is not the only one gobsmacked by the elf mage's fighting abilities. She does manage to get into the fray this time, though their enemies are taken out so quickly that there is little need for the barrier Solas drops over them.

It's Varric who insists on conversation, however. “Sooo, how'd you get that mark on your hand, Blondie?”

The elf spares a glance backwards. “Blondie?”

“Not very original, I know. Give me more time.”

The elf hums, jumping over a downed tree with ease. “Corypheus gave it to me by accident.”

Varric chokes and Cassandra stumbles. She remembers that name from _Tale of the Champion_. “No way! Hawke-”

“Hawke thought he was dead, yes. He changed bodies, or something. We were never very clear on that point.”

“How do you even-”

“I promise I'll tell you later.”

* * *

He chooses the mountain path, and she wonders why she bothered to ask a prisoner his opinion. Nonetheless, they push through.

* * *

_Now is the hour of our victory_ echoes off the remainders of the temple. Cassandra pauses, but the elf doesn't flinch, brushing past the fonts of red lyrium like they don't even exist. Varric advises caution, but the elf seems to pay him no mind, hopping down the last tumbledown stone wall to look up at the giant rift.

“The last time I did this, I fell unconscious for three days,” he remarks nonchalantly. Cassandra stares at him in disbelief.

“And did it work?” Varric asks what they're all thinking. The elf cuts him a glance.

“No, it simply stabilized. I had much less power then, though.” He plants his staff into the ash. “You will lend me some if I need it, Fen'harel.” Cassandra notices Solas straighten at the title.

“I am not at full power either, _da'len_.”

“You helped start this. Help me end it,” he says firmly, unyielding in the face of Solas' glare. She feels as if she is missing something very big indeed. He looks at her, at the soldiers stationed around and above them. “There is a pride demon on the other side, and we'll have to defeat it first. Are you ready?”

Varric whistles. “Those are nasty ones.”

Cassandra bites her tongue. _Every word he speaks invites a thousand more questions_. “We are ready.”

_Someone help me!_

_What's going on here?_

Justinia's voice hits her hard, makes her heart clench with pain. The vision before them makes her angry in response. “You _were_ there! What happened?”

The elf ignores her. “Get ready!” He lifts his hand. Green floods the space before them and the promised pride demon appears.

* * *

The battle takes some time, and Cassandra barely notices when the elf switches from his favoured lightning to fire attacks. The reason why becomes clear a moment later when the demon manifests lightning whips.

“To me!” she cries challenge, successfully dodging the whips. The elf disrupts the rift, and a moment later her sword finally makes a mark in the demon's armoured skin. “It's vulnerable!” Archers rain arrows in response.

More shades pop up – she takes a moment to check on the prisoner, but the elf practically backhands them across the field before he turns his attention to the pride demon. His spells seem weaker in comparison to earlier, and she desperately hopes it's because he's conserving energy, rather than running out of mana.

The demon tries to drop another static bomb on her but she rolls, driving her blade deep into its leg. A shield bash right after makes the demon crumple to its knees, where she can finally get to its chest. She takes a deep breath, releasing a war cry as she stabs deep into its flesh, spilling foul demon guts over her hands before the monster begins to dissolve.   
“Now! Seal the Breach!” she yells, turning in time to see the elf raise a hand skywards. A wave of power, bright and green, erupts as he pours more magic into it that she's ever felt one mage produce.

She watches the elf bring his other arm to steady his left, still leaking mana in concentrated waves. The rift grows smaller and brighter, but doesn't disappear.

“Solas!” he calls, voice full of strain, “help me!” The bald apostate appears at his elbow a moment later, clasping one hand around the prisoner's wrist. Cassandra gasps when the output increases exponentially. She would never have guess Solas his so much power behind such an unassuming exterior. She can see both elves start to shake, but dares not move closer for fear of distracting them.

The Breach hums, a low tone the soars higher until it pierces her ears and rattles her bones. Both elves cry out, though the blond yells loudest, as the light reaches its peak.

There is light, sound, and a concussion of air that catches her unprepared, throwing her down to the stone. She can't hear anything above the ringing in her ears. But her gaze turns upwards.

Up towards the clouded sky without a hint of green.

A cry goes up from the soldiers. It is done. The Breach has been sealed.

* * *

Later, after the elf has refused to rise to Chancellor Roderick's vitriol, it occurs to Cassandra that she does not know the elf's name.

This elf who claims to know her.

He looks surprised when she asks. “Oh! It didn't occur to me to introduce myself. My name is Mahanon. Mahanon Lavellan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out more writings and fic recs [on my tumblr](http://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/)!


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